Earn a Detention
by Literature work
Summary: Siblings fight and so do Fred and George. When they both get stuck in Filch's office, they have to look past their own troubles to learn something new about their other half.


**I know that the twins found the map in their first year, but I decided to ignore that to make a relatable story. In my experinece, I and my twin sister always have trouble staying mad at each other. I based this story off of the steps each one of us takes to apologise and make up with the other one. Twins can't stay mad at each other forever.**

To Earn a Detention

_Tap tap tap tap_

George bounced his foot impatiently on the floor of the dark stone office. A fire was lit in the hearth to light the lifeless room but the illuminant light didn't cast very far and the shadows started to crowd in the corners. The flames reflected in the red head's bright green eyes as they stared anywhere; up, down, right, forward, anywhere that his brother wasn't. He didn't dare look at Fred and give his twin the satisfaction of actually being acknowledged. George furrowed his eyebrows and stared at the ticking clock that hung on the wall. It was eight past nine. It seemed only a minute ago that he was staring up at the face wondering when Filch would get back with their punishment. He wished it would be soon because he didn't want to spend another second sitting next to the heartless fool he called a brother. He crossed his arms and continued to tap his foot on the ground, counting off the seconds until he was able to leave.

_Tap tap tap tap_

"George, can't you just talk to me?" Fred begged him from the seat to his left. He leaning forward trying to get into his line of sight, but George just turned his head and continued to tap his foot angrily. It was his fault he was there in the first place. The two of them, having taken up to occupation of being notorious pranksters, were always in the caretaker's office for one reason or another. But this time wasn't just lighting the fifth toilet in the girl's bathroom on fire, George wasn't even supposed to be a part of it.

"Come on George! How many times can I say that I am sorry?" Fred begged him for a response.

"As many times as it I want," George retorted glancing up at the clock again. It was ten past nine.

_Tap tap tap tap_

The fire crackled and snapped a bit as the logs shifted underneath their own collapsing weight. The shadows seemed to enjoy the thought of the fire dying out as they gradually crept a bit closer to the warm hearth. George let out an exhausted sigh and sunk down in his seat. He still wasn't looking at his brother. His eyes darted up and around the intricate stone ceilings and around the desk drawers. There seemed to be millions of labels for random objects in there. Dung bombs, and vampire teeth seemed more enjoyable than talking to the menace next to him.

_Tap Tap tap tap._

Fifteen past nine.

Fred leaned over to his brother and tried to get his attention, but George's head was still turned away defiantly from him. "Come on George! You weren't even supposed to be there!" he whined pitifully.

"Hell I was," George retorted rather snippily. The green eyes turned around on him and bore down on Fred. "I wonder how my dress robes seemed to find their way down to the fourth floor corridor! Maybe Jo Lee just wanted to see how good they looked on the Gallery's Armour while that Dungbomb mysteriously fell out of your pocket!" Fred pulled back a bit at the burning words that his brother spat at him. George glared at him with the intensity of the sun's flames. He was mad. They never get mad. The fire crackled a bit and the logs shifted again sending up little sparks like fireflies.

_Tap tap tap tap _

A few long seconds ticked by and it was seventeen past nine. George let out a sigh and sank back down in his chair staring intently into the side of Filch's desk as if he were to burn a hole in it. "Seriously Fred, I had a date! Why couldn't you keep the pranks down for one afternoon? Now I am in here for the entire afternoon."

"George, you could reschedule or something," Fred muttered under his breath.

"This isn't about rescheduling!" George nearly shouted at him.

"SHHH! Filch might hear-"

"I DON'T CARE, FRED!" George bellowed at him. Fred sank back in his seat as his brother exploded in to his torment. Fire was spewing out from his lips almost as hot as his hair. George leaned in towards his cowering brother and stared him down as if looking straight into his conscious.

"This isn't the first time you did this to me," George hissed at him. "Winter of first year, firecrackers somehow went off in my potion's cauldron the day that I was going to hang out with a few other friends while you had detention from McGonagall. Guess who joined you? Second year, I was going to play a few games of chess with some classmates. Guess who's chess board mysteriously went missing just to appear on top of the Gunhilda Gorsemore statue? Fred, when are you just going to let me live my own life?" George turned away and sat back down in his own seat. His head was turned perfectly away, just far enough that Fred couldn't get a glimpse of it. George tucked his knees up and clenched them to his chest, crouching on the seat of the chair. He wasn't tapping his foot anymore.

It was seventeen past nine.

"George, I-I…."

"No, Fred, just please stop," George replied softly. His voice wasn't harsh or rough anymore but it made Fred turn his head away and looked at the floor. The rough tile seemed to be shrouded in shadows as the fire grew dimmer and dimmer in the hearth. The logs snapped again and the light flickered a bit.

"I didn't mean it," Fred muttered sadly. "I just didn't have anyone else to do anything with." George took a sideways glance at his brother. Fred's silhouette seemed small and pitiful in the growing darkness. The shadows licked at his sides and made Fred's normally strong demeanor seem weak and rather dead. "If you haven't noticed… I don't…. I don't really have as many friends like you do."

"Come on, Fred, Jo Lee and all the other quidditch mates-"

"They are nice and all, but they always seemed to like you better; inviting you to play chess, and study, and everything. I was always the tag along. No one really ever said 'Hey Fred, why don't we go to the library and study, just you and me,' 'Hey Fred, how's it going? How about a game of chess? One on one.'" Fred mimicked sadly. His voice seemed tired and rather dragged on. He let out a sigh. "I guess I am saying…. I was jealous."

Eighteen past nine. George looked about the room, trying to take in everything but his eyes didn't seem to stray long from his brother. The fire crackled one last time in the hearth as the shadows crept even closer to them. George didn't have any words to say, granted he wanted to say something, but he didn't really know what. Fred was now taking his turn staring distantly into the floor, the ceiling, the wall, and anywhere that George now wasn't. It was as if he was ashamed of himself. George's stomach twisted and fought him until he couldn't do anything else but stand up and move about to keep himself occupied. He got up from his chair and immediately started to sift through the drawers in Filches desk. The rustling of papers seemed to rouse his brother out of his stupor. George's stomach seemed to be quieting down the more that he looked.

"Fred," George said standing up from the desk. "Next time you do something stupid. Let us go down together got it? I want to earn my detentions from now on." In his hand there was a rather large dungbomb that Filch had taken from them a few months ago. It was fresh and ready to pop. There must have been a rather large collection of trinkets in the desk if that was still in there. Fred looked from the bomb to his brother and then to the desk. He jumped up and started to sift through the desk as well. Footsteps sounded from the hallways and Filch seemed to be coming back. His snarls seemed to be floating down the corridor as if it was a tune from a cranky and tangy old piano.

Twenty past nine. The dungbomb was one of the biggest that they have seen by far. It exploded with such power that the entire room was ignited with the blast. Piles of shit flew to every corner of the room soaking it in pounds of pure stench. Some of it flew onto the hearth igniting the broken charcoals once more into a roaring fire. The shadows retreated just to be consumed by the light of the burning hearth and the smell of a good prank. Fred and George madly dashed out of the room while Filch was still in complete shock from the explosion. They ran down the hallways whooping and hollering as the Caretaker's office spewed out dung from all doors. The man's wild cries were drowned out by the twins' once again unified laughter. They should have known that it was going to end like this. George could never keep a temper. Now they left their detention together leaving thirty piles of shit behind them and a single drawer labeled _Confiscated and Highly Dangerous_ empty. Fred tucked the blank piece of parchment into his robes as the two of them ran down the way towards their dormitories.


End file.
